Midnight in a Perfect World
by EvilBad
Summary: Many years after the battle of Kirkwall, Aveline and Donnic have a house and four children, while Fenris and Isabela have been adventuring on the High Seas. But seasons change and all things must end... Aveline/Donnic/Fenris/Isabela
1. Chapter one

_Awhile back I did a fill on the kinkmeme involving Aveline/Donnic/Fenris in a threesome arrangement. __In my mind, this is what happened many years later. However, this is a completely different kind of story, and it really stands alone._

_There are only three installments, and they're all finished. __Many thanks to Apocalisse (look for her on tumblr) for being a wonderful beta for this story._

* * *

In a glen just outside a bustling Ferelden village sat a little house, one so plain and unassuming as to escape the notice of most travelers who passed by. Surrounded by tall grass and bare trees, the wooden structure didn't do much to impress. But the house was soundly built, as sturdy and impregnable as a castle, and Aveline Hendyr loved it.

On that breezy autumn afternoon she had been standing in her little kitchen after shooing the children outside to play and frowning at the mess they had left behind from the midday meal. Sighing, she slowly cleared away the clutter, wiping the oak table and covering the would be hours still until her husband returned, and a bittersweet longing pierced her through at the thought of him. Even after all these years, she still missed him whenever he went away.

When she heard the whoop go out among the children, she wandered over to the door. It didn't take much to get her brood excited. But there was only one thing that would make all of them abandon their games and run to the road, and that was a visitor.

Aveline checked the sword she kept stashed above the door frame (out of tiny arms' reach) and, dusting off her trousers, stepped out into the sunshine.

Shielding her eyes with one hand, her other hand on her hip, she gazed out over the grassy hill where the road out of Lothering curved to pass her homestead. She could see the little ones were jumping all over someone in the pass. It wouldn't be Donnic yet, he was never back before sundown; besides, this shape was considerably leaner.

Even if she hadn't recognized the white hair, the sight of her somber eldest daughter hugging him happily about the waist would have told her it was Fenris, come to call for the first time in nearly a year.

She crossed her arms in front of her and attempted to frown as they all trooped down the hill in a great clump, the children making it terribly difficult for the elf to walk at all. It was a wonder Fenris didn't trip over little Arthur and send them all tumbling down the hill, the way he would cling to his leg as he walked.

There was a delightful chorus of "Mummy look!" and "Hooray!" and "Uncle came back! And he's brought presents! Did you bring presents?" and Fenris smiled at her crookedly, and rumbled, "Hello, Aveline."

It was thoroughly impossible not to smile back. "Fenris. Where in the world have you been?"

"Everywhere," he said vaguely, and kissed her cheek. "As for you, little goblins… Anyone who wants to see what I have brought back from Antiva should go inside and wait for me by the fire,quietly."

"Why does that never work when I do it?" Aveline said crossly as she watched her children clamour into the house in barely-contained silence.

"I never make idle threats," Fenris said, and embraced her. Aveline snorted, and hugged him back. He smelled of the sea. It was good to see him again.

As always, he looked exactly the same. True, he wore proper clothes now, a grass-green tunic and fine trousers that seemed brand new. His hair had grown longer, and he kept it tied at the back. But his face had not changed a bit in all these years, and his hands were unlined besides the scars of lyrium that still marked him there.

"It's entirely unfair," Aveline complained, studying him at arm's length. "We're growing old and you haven't changed at all."

"The one and only benefit of being an elf," he remarked. "Though it will not last forever. And you do not look it, Aveline. You look more radiant with each passing year."

It was not an exaggeration. Though she had added lines to her face, middle age and motherhood suited her wonderfully, giving her a glow of contentment and confidence. Her fine red hair tied carelessly back was only lightly dusted with grey, in a way that gave it a silvery shimmer. Even the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes spoke to a life of warmth and laughter.

Aveline brushed off the compliment. "Hmph. Idle flattery. Just wait until you see Donnic. His hair is going to look like yours before long. It's gone all white at the temples and the sides of his head. I think it makes him look distinguished, but he's rather sensitive about it."

"I must be incredibly distinguished, then."

She squeezed his arm. "Indeed. Come in and let me feed you, you look like you haven't had a proper meal in weeks."

"Not since I last left your home, Aveline."

She lead him inside, taking his pack and his sword and letting him sit by the fire, where four children immediately swarmed him, the little ones climbing into his lap and the older two peppering him with questions.

Aveline chuckled and left them to it.

Among the many, many surprises in her life, the relationship between her children and the Tevinter elf had been the most pleasant. The children adored him, and he them. They called him Uncle, and for them he had managed to coin most of the nicknames that stuck, despite Donnic's best efforts to thwart him by thinking of them first. Fenris told them extravagant stories that she was certain had taken him weeks to come up with, though there were bits of truth mixed in with the flights of fancy, and all of it so straight-faced as not to hint at any difference between the two. He brought them presents from wherever he went, within a strict set of rules dictated by Aveline of course.

Now, he produced four small packages, which were immediately and loudly torn into. For Martin there was a golden spyglass, in perfect working condition, that collapsed into the palm of your hand and could be stored in a pocket. For Mirabele, a puzzle box shimmering with jewels and clockworks which immediately captured all of her attention. For Arthur, a small, perfectly-sized pirate captain's hat (a miniature of the very hat worn by Captain Isabela of the Sea Witch) which he immediately put on his head and ran off with. Looking for a ship to captain, no doubt.

For Doris he had brought three books, with lavish illustrations and tales from faraway countries. One of which was at least partly written in an unfamiliar language. "That should keep you busy," he told her.

Doris, called Dor by most, was by far the most attached of all the children to their strange tattooed uncle.

Nearly from birth Dor had been a serious child, dark-eyed and solemn. She had her mother's red hair and her temper, but not her aptitude for contentment. She held grudges. She worried, and she watched over everyone with utter seriousness. Aveline called her the "little mother".

Doris persisted in winning over her taciturn uncle from the very beginning. Fenris had flatly refused to hold their firstborn, convinced he would hurt him somehow. "They look so… fragile," he had said, somewhat awestruck at the sight of the baby's tiny features, the vulnerable smallness of him. Doris, however, would not be denied. When she was very small, and Fenris still wore his spikey armor, she would climb into his lap determinedly and stay there. No matter how many times he put her down, she would come scrambling back.

Once she cut herself on the sharp edges of his plate. He had stopped wearing it to their home after that.

Aveline could still remember clearly the first time she had found him with Doris sleeping in his arms. He had sat for hours like that, not wanting to wake her up. There had been a peculiar look of surprised tenderness on his face, his hand gentle at her back.

Now that she was older, the two of them would talk a great deal, and Doris would confide in her uncle things she would never tell her parents. She was a bookish child, smart and imaginative. There was not much for her here in Lothering, even after the village had been fully rebuilt from the Blight. She would follow Fenris around like a puppy any time he came to their home, and he would talk to her like an adult, in utter seriousness. And when she became overwhelmed with frustration and worry, Fenris was best at calming her. He would come along and take her hand and they would go for a walk, and when they returned Dor would be restored to a happier mood.

Dor hugged her new books to her chest as another child might hug a doll, and her dark eyes shone. She disappeared into the children's room to hide her books away with her other secret things, in a place Aveline had not yet discovered.

Aveline brought him some of her stew, still hot from the midday meal, and sat with him on the bench. "Donnic will be home at sundown. I suspect he'll have a lot to talk with you about. The Fereldan army has him training the men for Qunari incursions."

"Surely you could teach them all they need to know. You certainly fought your share of Qunari in Kirkwall."

"This lot keeps me busy enough," she replied. "And I'm still involved with the guard here in Lothering. They will bang on my door when there's trouble afoot, and I've kept my blade sharp for just such occassions."

Aveline tried to tell him more about this, but Arthur and Mirabele had other ideas for making things difficult. At random intervals they would shout out "Darkspawn attack!" and suddenly appear, jumping all over their uncle.

Conversation would have to be temporarily abandoned as the elf allowed himself to be wrestled to the ground by two little monsters who would dance away victorious, or else he would fight them off fearsomely and hoist them up in the air by their ankles, to loud shrieks and giggles. When he set them down carefully they would run away to plot their next attack, and Fenris would resume his conversation as though nothing had happened.

After the third time Aveline was beginning to get a headache. "Maker, why I ever thought four of them would be a good idea…"

He could not resist teasing her. "So there won't be another one, then?"

"No. Oh no."

"Five is a good number."

"Four is enough. No more babies."

"I seem to recall you saying that after Martin. And Doris. And—"

"This time I really mean it. Done. Finished. No more. If you want more babies you're going to have to make them yourself."

"A shame." Aveline spotted a hint of sadness in his reply. "You could have your own platoon of flame-haired soldiers."

"I'd rather keep mine out of harm's way, if it's possible. But what about you? I suppose Isabela isn't-"

"No." He cut that line of questioning off abruptly. "One might say she has a crew of rowdy boys to look after as it is."

Aveline had to restrain herself from scowling. She had never quite understood their relationship. For all they had been together nearly as long as she and Donnic, those two had never married, and would part for long periods. Fenris would be deposited on land and Captain Isabela would continue on with her crew, probably shagging everything that moves. He would stay with them in Lothering then, or call on another of his friends, until the pirate snatched him up again to drag him halfway around the world on another of her crazy schemes.

Aveline was hardly an impartial observer, of course. The relations between all of them had been… complicated.

They had all been lovers once, many years ago in the Free Marches. Donnic and Aveline had been newly married and Fenris was a dear friend, and a one-time occurrence became a steady thing. Much to the very buttoned-up Aveline's surprise.

Those were mad times, way back when they all ran with Hawke. A motley group they were. The three of them, the Prince of Starkhaven, the head of House Tethras, Hawke's brother the Templar and a few assorted apostates. Even Captain Isabela had been with them in Kirkwall, and the woman rarely set foot to land these days. They were all so young. Everyone had been a little in love with each other then.

Then Kirkwall went up in flames and Donnic and Aveline had come here, to Lothering. To their surprise Fenris had declined to accompany them, instead going to sea with Isabela. But he had been with them in the building of their house, sweating with Donnic in the sunshine as Aveline waited in the shade, big with her first child. He had been there after Martin was born, when Aveline took to organizing the village a Guard of sorts, to fight off bandits and troublemakers. He had been there when Mirabele had been so ill and Donnic was away.

He would stay for weeks at a time and then utterly disappear, off to Maker only knows where on Isabela's ship. Of course he had an open invitation to their home, to come any time and for as long as he wanted. He had an open invitation to their bed, as well.

That part, of course, had worked a lot better before there were children underfoot. Children were extremely inconvenient for such liasons. Especially children so eager to monopolize all of their guest's time. So it happened rarely anymore. Sometimes Donnic and Fenris would wander off together, and Aveline suspected what sorts of things would be gotten up to, but she could hardly accuse and in the end she didn't truly mind it. It was to her benefit, as Donnic would always return happier, re-energized, and eager.

"How IS the Captain?" she prodded. "Is she ever planning to come back to Lothering? Mirabele barely remembers her, and I don't believe she's ever met Arthur…"

"I always invite her along, but there is always some reason for her to be somewhere else. You are too far inland, or so she claims. You know how domesticity makes her itch."

"Among other things… Sorry, I never can resist an easy target. Tell me, does it bother her when you stay here with us?"

"Not at all. Remember whose idea it was for me to be closer with the two of you in the first place, back in Kirkwall…?"

"Sometimes I think she just wanted us to loosen you up for her own purposes," Aveline grumbled.

She and the pirate had exchanged some harsh words when she found out Fenris would be joining her crew and sailing away. The sudden burst of jealousy had surprised everyone, including Aveline herself. Things had been faintly strained between the two women ever since. Of course, their relations had never been smooth to begin with.

"I have learned," Fenris told her with an unfamiliar twinkle in his eyes, "that it is best to go along with her notions, however insane they may seem. Speaking of which…"

"What's she done now?"

"Well, she has actually talked about a visit sometime soon. And I should probably warn you…"

Aveline groaned. "No. Absolutely not."

Fenris smiled. He smiled so easily these days it was easy to forget how rare such a sight had once been."Don't dismiss it out of hand. She has had some enjoyable ideas in the past…"

"I'm too old for four to a bed. Someone could get hurt."

"Ha. But who?"

"Isabela. I'd have to strangle her."

The conversation was interrupted once again by the children, this time whooping happily that Father was home, Arthur rushing out the door to greet him in his new pirate hat.

Donnic came through the door grinning, hefting his son with one metal-clad arm. "Fenris! You sod, where have you been hiding?!"He dropped his sword at the door and caught up the elf in a hearty embrace, impeded only slightly by Arty and by his armor. "If I'd known you'd be here I'd have come sooner! They owe me some leave after all the extra time I've put in."

"Well," Fenris laughed, "I suppose you're learning that one must curry favor with their superiors, when they're not married to them."

"Ha! Are you kidding? Aveline worked me much harder in the Guard than the Fereldan army ever does." He held Fenris's arm affectionately, beaming with excitement. "Come on, let me show you what Martin and I are building…"

"Oh no you're not," Aveline informed him. "You're helping me prepare supper."

"Oh, right. Looks like I'm on duty, Fenris. This is what I get for marrying the boss."

Donnic retreated to the kitchen agreeably, greeting his wife with a long and tender kiss, while Fenris allowed Martin and his younger brothers and sisters to pull him about from place to place and show him all he had missed, since he had been gone.

* * *

After supper, they all sat together in the common room, Aveline and Donnic relaxed together on the chaise while Fenris sat cross-legged on the floor, children clamoring around him. Martin tried eagerly to convince his father and uncle to have a swordfight for the enjoyment of all, which his siblings enthusiastically seconded.

But Donnic declined, saying, "Munchkins, your uncle would defeat me mercilessly, and then what would you think of your dear old dad?"

"And your mother would defeat us both at once," Fenris countered.

Aveline said little. She leaned her head against her husband's shoulder and sighed with contentment at her happy little family, as Donnic squeezed her fondly.

"It's still so strange to hear you laugh like that," he told Fenris, who presently had a child hanging determinedly off each arm.

"Why?" Mirabele asked, in mid-air. She was still in that 'why' phase.

"Your uncle used to be very, ah, grouchy."

"Why?"

"Because," Fenris supplied, swinging her back and forth, "I did not have you little monsters to make me smile."

"Why?"

"Because you were not here yet."

"Why?"

Aveline chuckled. "That way leads to madness, Fenris."

He lifted his arm high, so that the dangling child could look him in the eyes. "I did not have a home before I met your mum and dad. I was unhappy. But not anymore."

He turned the giggling girl upside down, her chestnut-colored hair waving like a flag, and all of her whys were forgotten.

"You could stay," Doris spoke up from a quiet corner. "Stay forever."

Their eyes met. Something passed between them, difficult to interpret.

"I will stay the night, at least," he conceded, setting Miri on the floor. "But I must go in the morning."

"Let me pick your brain then," Donnic interjected, standing up. "I have a new regulation armor, and the bracers on it are just killing me. Maybe you'll have some ideas…"

The two men disappeared to discuss smithery and fighting equipment and the like, and since Aveline knew they could keep it up for awhile, she took the opportunity to draw a bath for her brood and get them packed away for bed.

"Not one word of complaint," she admonished. "Behave yourselves and perhaps your uncle will tuck you in."

Fenris did reappear when they were all ready, his green eyes glittering with amusement and satisfaction as they begged him to perform their bedtime ritual. "Tell us a story!" little Artie hollered.

Arthur and Mirabele were only a year apart, and though quite close they were highly competitive for his attention. They would talk at the same and attempt to shout over each other. Things could get fairly loud."Yes please, tell a story!" "Tell about the dragon!" "Did you meet a dragon, uncle?" "Of course he did, he already told us so." "Well, I want to hear it again!" "I want it more!"

Fenris, standing in the middle of the children's room, agreed to tell the story about the High Dragon he had helped the Champion of Kirkwall slay. "Many years ago, before you were born, there was a mine that would be overrun with young dragonlings from time to time. Until the miners inadvertently freed the dragon from its place of rest, deep within the underground."

Martin was very keen on things like Dragon-slaying. He wanted details. "How big was it, the dragon? Was it as big as a house?"

"It was as big as a castle. We were like mice beside it, scurrying around at its feet."

"Did you have to kill it?" Doris asked, her eyes big and watery.

"I'm afraid so. It had eaten rather a lot of people."

"But there are so few of them, and it was only hungry…" Of course Doris would be the one to sympathize with the dragon.

It was a shame to do it," Fenris agreed. "It was a magnificent creature. But very, very dangerous. Just one of its claws would be bigger than you, and its breath could melt the very flesh from your bones…"

Aveline, who had heard this one before, wandered off to see where Donnic found him slumped in front of the fire with a glazed-over expression.

"Sorry darling," he said as she slipped her arms around his neck from behind. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

She kissed her husband's ear and gave him a squeeze. "Off to bed with you then. Fenris is putting the children to bed, and I know you'll want to see him off in the morning."

"I'm worried about him," he said in a lowered voice. "He seems a bit… distracted. He's not talking much and I can't seem to draw him out."

"That sounds familiar enough," Aveline said, but she frowned.

"But it isn't, not anymore. I haven't seen him like this since Kirkwall. And there's something else… something Doris told me. You saw them out together earlier?"She nodded. They had wandered out along the road just before supper."She seemed a little upset when they got back. I had to drag it out of her. She said they were walking down the road talking and he suddenly went quiet, and kind of… swayed. He put his hand up to his head, like this, and he said they should sit down. They were sitting in the grass for awhile. He told her silly jokes, and acted like nothing was wrong, but they had to rest before coming back."

Aveline laid her head on her husband's shoulder. "You know she's a born worrier. It's probably not as bad as all that. He could just be tired."

Donnic shook his head slowly. "Maybe. We are all a bit older than we were. I told her not to worry, and she seemed to forget about it by supper, so it must not have been too dramatic."

"I'll interrogate him later. You go on to bed."

He chuckled. "Aye, Captain."

They leaned against each other for a few more minutes, the familiar, solid weight a reliable comfort. Then Donnic stood and lumbered back in the general direction of the bedroom, muttering something about vambraces making his wrists sore.

When Aveline came back around to the children's room, the story had concluded, and everyone was in bed. Fenris sat on the edge of Doris's bed, tucking her in, and they were talking quietly.

She did not mean to eavesdrop… well, in all honesty, perhaps she did.

"She has so many rules," Doris was complaining. "Stupid rules."

Fenris chuckled. "She has always been like that. Your mother likes to keep things in order."

"But she has too many."

"I have known her to change the rules, if there's a sensible reason. Think of something to persuade her. If you cannot, then perhaps the rule is necessary." He straightened the blankets around her. "She wants to keep you safe. As do I," he added thoughtfully.

Doris took his hand suddenly, and stroked the lines on his palm. "Why do you have these? You said you would tell me when I was older."

Fenris hesitated. "They are lyrium, as I said."

"Like the stuff the dwarves bring? For magic?"

"The same."

Her small fingers traced the lines delicately. "They hurt, don't they?"

"Sometimes."

"There isn't anyone else like you, is there? I keep looking in books, and there's nothing about people with lyrium in their skin…"

Fenris cut her off sharply. He did not like the idea that she had been researching his condition. "It is rare. I am perhaps the only one. It was… an experiment. To make me strong."

"Did it work?"

"It made me stronger. And it… injured me. It is not a thing that should be done. That is why there is only me."

Dor pressed her eyebrows together with oversized worry. "Can't you take it out?"

"It seems not. I have tried various things, to no avail. But do not worry," he admonished her, stroking her hair lightly, "I am used to it. And it is tremendously useful, when sword-fighting."

"When I grow up, I will find a way to fix you," the little girl promised him solemnly.

Fenris chuckled. "I believe you would." He leaned over her and kissed the girl on the forehead, between wisps of red bangs. "Goodnight, little mother. Sleep well."

He found Aveline waiting outside the door as he shut it behind him."Do you want us to explain it to them?" Aveline asked softly. "I thought we'd leave it up to you."

"No, not yet." He studied the lines of lyrium on his palm thoughtfully. "I have told them the markings make me stronger, but they also make me ill. That is enough for now."

"Martin is learning about Tevinter at school. He might ask…"

"Don't tell them. Perhaps when they are older." Fenris dropped his hand and grimaced. "They have not had to learn the world is a cruel place. I do not want them to learn it because of me."

Aveline could remember when Fenris would tell anyone who would listen about his origins, about being an escaped slave, about his markings, the pain he suffered, the rage he carried. He used that knowledge as a cudgel to beat everyone with. With the children, it was different. They knew a different man, one who laughed, and was gentle and loving.

Aveline liked that man very much.

More delicately, she prodded him. "Fenris… are you well? We've noticed a few.. difficulties."

He gave her a knowing look and then walked towards the common room. "I suppose Dor has reported on me, then?"

"She just said you were tired. And I've noticed it too."

He only nodded, not meeting her eyes.

"Is it the lyrium? It's getting worse?"

She knew that Fenris's lyrium brands had caused him more and more pain over the years; he had confessed as much to her in a previous visit. Whatever kept the lyrium physically confined to the brands had begun to fail, and the poisonous substance had begun to leech into the rest of his body.

"… yes."

"How bad?"

"It is manageable."

Aveline frowned. "You should stay here with us. Climbing around on a pirate ship and letting Isabela drag you across the known world can't be doing you any good. It could be making things worse. Stay with us."

Fenris shook his head. "Thank you, Aveline. But I am happy as I am."

"The children would be ecstatic—"He grew sharp with her.

"Don't do that."

"Donnic and I would be pleased too. Fenris," she took his arm firmly, "you're part of our family. We would love for you to stay with us for good."

"Thank you," he said genuinely. "I am.. pleased with your offer. I will give it some thought. For now, I must return to the ship."

Later still, when he should have been asleep on the pallet she had made up for him, Aveline found him wandering the house, looking at their things pensively. Toys, drawings, her poor attempts at knitting, a figure carved from wood with Donnic's military-issue knife. He would pick them up one at a time and hold them, run his fingers over them.

She leaned against the door frame and watched him for a time."You're getting broody again."

"Old habits." He set down Donnic's carving carefully where he had found it and moved to sit down in his chair, his hands folded in front of him.

"Are you sure you can't stay another day? Such a short visit."

"Any longer and Isabela will move on without me, I'm afraid."

She made a face. "Would it be such a terrible thing?"

"Aveline."

"All right, I'll leave it." She wandered over to trail her hand along his arm. "You should go to bed, if you'll be off in the morning."

"I shall. In a few minutes."

On the spur of the moment, Aveline bent down and kissed him on the lips. A thing she had done a handful of times only, over the years. It was nice.

"You're going to make me worry about you," she whispered.

"Do not worry."

"I'm a mother. I worry constantly."

"Worry for your little ones. Not for me."

"But when will you settle down and stop adventuring? You can't go on like this forever. You're getting slower. Sooner or later it will get you killed."

"It would not be the worst thing. I have had a good life. Perhaps surprisingly," he said lightly.

Aveline smiled at his last statement, irritated as she was with his fatalism. "When did you get so philosophical?"

"… I am not always. At times I am angry all over again at what has been done to me." He paused, watching his brands flicker briefly and die out. "That anger… I do not want to bring into this place, into your home."

"Is that what's kept you away? I hope it isn't. I will take you angry, over not having you at all."

"Ah, you say that so easily. But I know you have little patience for my moodiness. Were I around more often, you would tire of me quickly." He went on before Aveline could interrupt. "This life you have with Donnic, it is exactly as you built it. Calm, peaceful.. uncomplicated."

"You could be part of that. A little stability might do you good."

"Your life… would be neither calm nor uncomplicated, were I in it." He shook his head. "It is enough for me to see this from time to time. A home that I am welcomed to… that is a great gift to me, Aveline."

He was right, after all - in the end, Aveline did not have much patience for moodiness. She decided to leave him to his brooding and climb into bed with Donnic, where she could hear the elf pacing long into the night.

* * *

A day after his departure, Aveline found his sword lying discarded in her house, jammed in with the fireplace tools.

"It's very odd," she told Donnic. "I can't imagine him just forgetting it."

A missive to Isabela's ship at the next port returned weeks later in her familiar hand, sounding completely unconcerned.

"Pah. He has a million swords. We pick them up everywhere. Keep it."

Aveline should have known it then.

But she put it out of her mind, and did not think of it again until the day she came home from a visit to the village barracks and found the family gathered together, with Captain Isabela there in the flesh. Finally here, in her house, but without Fenris.

In the doorway Aveline dropped her shield and burst abruptly into tears, because she knew without anyone needing to say a word that Fenris was dead.


	2. Chapter two

Delivering the news went about as well as could be expected.

Isabela knew she was not the person anyone would want to give them terrible news. She had never really gotten the knack of tact and sensitivity and all that. But she had promised the elf that she would do this one thing for him, and so here she was.

She had expected Aveline. That would have been easier. Donnic had looked fairly shocked to see her there alone at his door — already he knew that something wasn't right. His kids crowded around behind him. There were, how many, four of them now? What were their names again? Donnic opened the door and it was all she could do not to just blurt out the truth and run back up the hill, her obligation completed, but before she could do that he invited her in.

She walked into the little house with its toys everywhere and the roaring fire and the warm and inviting kitchen which smelled of fresh bread, and she sat down at the table and Donnic brought her tea, and everyone stared at her curiously. She fiddled with her cup and was tempted to add something to it from the flask in her pocket.

"I apologize that my wife isn't here to greet you," Donnic said. There were a few more lines around his mouth than she remembered, his hair just beginning to go gray. He still had his open, honest face, and he couldn't quite disguise the unease in those big brown eyes. "What brings you to our home, Captain?"

She didn't know how to say it. But she figured it was like a duel, or like an assassination - better a quick, clean cut than a slow and drawn-out injury. "I'm just going to say it… Fenris is dead. He died."

Donnic took it just like the elf had predicted he would. He would be confused, and then outraged, and so would Martin, the oldest child, who took after his father so strongly. They both cried out in pain and then demanded details. "What... what are you talking about? How? When?"

"About two weeks ago? Something like that." She studied her hands. They had a few more lines on them than she remembered, too. "I had to wait until I could tell you in person."

The solemn little girl with hair even redder than Aveline's gaped at her in disbelief. "Uncle is… dead?"

The tiny ones just burst out crying. Probably because Dad was crying; Isabela doubted they really understood what was going on.

Then Aveline got home, and everything went tits-up. She walked into the house and took one look at Isabela and knew exactly what had happened. Her shield slipped out of her hands and clattered to the floor. Her hands wandered up to her mouth to cover a loud, anguished sob.

That bit was not at all according to plan. Everyone else was already crying, but seeing Aveline burst into tears herself was a real shock. None of them, maybe not even Donnic, had ever seen the former Guard-Captain cry. Isabela certainly hadn't.

The two little ones, Mirabele and Arthur, ran straight to her and she hugged them tightly, trying to collect herself for their sake.

"Mummy, what's wrong?" they both chimed with their sweet little voices. They didn't understand about dying, that their uncle was never coming back.

Martin sat with his father, watching him worriedly with fat tears running down his face. Donnic kept a hand clamped firmly over his mouth, perhaps to shut in his own grief. Only the middle child, Dor, sat alone. She stayed in her chair and balled her hands up into fists, and she glared at Isabela with the fierceness of a mabari.

Aveline gathered her little ones up and carried them across the room. She sat down opposite her, bundling Arthur and Miri up in her lap. "How did it happen?" she asked in an approximation of calm, wiping at her tears.

"Peacefully. He went to sleep and didn't wake up."

Donnic kept shaking his head. "I don't understand."

"He's been sick for a long time. He didn't want to worry you."

"How long?" Poor Donnic sounded so bewildered.

Isabela felt a strong desire to somehow go back in time and slap Fenris for making her do this. "Years. It was slow. Mostly he could go on like usual, it didn't get bad until right at the end."

Aveline just sounded heartbroken. "He should have told us. **You**should have told us."

Isabela shrugged helplessly. "He made me promise."

"Of course he did." Aveline threw up her hands. "Heaven forbid he deal with anyone **else's**angst. And what on earth have you been doing all that time instead?"

Somehow she couldn't stop herself. "… Having really fantastic sex?"

"Oh for Maker's sake, Isabela," Donnic broke in, looking pointedly at the children. "Inappropriate."

Aveline had managed the turn from sorrow to anger in record time. "Will you never grow up? You haven't changed a bit. Even Fenris managed to mature into a person of quality in all this time. No thanks to you, obviously."

Dor spoke up. "Why didn't you help him? If he was sick for so long, he should have seen a healer."

Isabela eyed her uneasily. She had heard a lot about this one. She had been warned the girl would take it badly. "It wasn't that kind of sickness, kiddo."

The little girl scowled at her for the unwanted endearment.

"It was the lyrium," Aveline explained, struggling to hold the toddlers still in her lap. "Wasn't it? It's been poisoning him all along."

"Yes, exactly. There wasn't anything anybody could do."

"You could have helped if you wanted," Dor accused her angrily. "You could have found something to make him better. Instead you made him do your stupid pirate things so you could be rich. You didn't care he was dying!"

Isabela rolled her eyes. She was hardly going to take this accusatory bullshit from a child. "Oh, be quiet. You don't know anything about it."

Donnic tried to keep the peace. "Let's just cool it down, please."

"This is your fault!" Dor exploded, shouting with her whole body. "You're the reason he's dead!"

"Shut up!" the pirate snapped back at her. "You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"That's it!" Aveline deposited the little ones on the floor, and pointed angrily at the door, tears still trickling down her face. "Nobody tells my children to shut up. You can shut your own mouth or see yourself out."

"Everybody calm down." Donnic rose to his feet, and the married couple exchanged a look fraught with meaning. "We're all upset right now. Let's not do anything we'll regret."

"I wouldn't regret it," Aveline said coolly.

"Look, the Captain came a long way to give us some difficult news, and she is a guest. We _do not_ shout at our guests. Children, bring your toys back to your room. Let's get our guest settled."

Doris stomped out of the room unhappily, glaring at Isabela over her shoulder.

"Wait, Donnic — I'm not staying," she tried to inform him.

"You won't make it back to the coast before sundown," Donnic insisted. "You might as well stay the night."

* * *

The next she knew, she had been herded into the common room. In the distance, husband and wife argued briefly about what to do with her. Then a clamoring, pleasant din of routine settling firmly back into place, the teacups being washed, children shouting at one another.

Isabela sat dumbly on the chaise while the household spun on around her.

It could have gone worse, she supposed. At least it was over now.

She looked around the room appraisingly. She hadn't been here in… in a long time. Fenris told her everything about his visits, so vividly that she had imagined all of this perfectly. Though it sounded a bit like a fairy-tale. A safe and peaceful home. Two parents who loved their children. Food to eat and toys to play with, brothers and sisters to enjoy them with. For people like them, a house like this was as fantastic and outlandish as their own adventures on the high seas would be to the people of Lothering.

_Boring,_ she told herself. _Repetitive. Unfulfilling. Ordinary._

Then Isabela noticed that everything had gone quiet, and stood. She wandered to the window and found Donnic standing in the yard with a hatchet. Hacking away, very inefficiently, at whatever bits of wood he could find.

Aveline stood a few feet behind him, watching. An expression of tender concern on her face, one that Isabela could hardly bear to look at.

"Donnic," she said.

He wiped his forehead and straightened, leaving the hatched buried in a chunk of wood. Isabela leaned closer to hear. "You know, he was there on all the most important days of our life together. When we met. When we married. Our first child. Building this house…" He kicked viciously at the pile of wood bits, and grimaced at the damage to his toe. "Why didn't he let us be there for him?!"

Sadly, his wife shook her head. "I don't know."

"I could have helped. Somehow. I… at least he could have let us say good-bye."

"I loved him too," Aveline said gently.

Donnic's broad shoulders heaved. "I thought I was done losing my friends when Kirkwall fell."

"I'm afraid that's never done." Aveline put a hand to his back. Her husband turned, and she gathered him up in her arms, holding him tight.

Isabela watched as they wept together.

"Darling, don't you ever-" the soldier said, brokenly.

"Never," she promised.

Isabela smiled slightly. No, Aveline would never die. When Death came for her she would shout at it until it slunk away in defeat.

Isabela left the window and sat back down on the chaise, pulling a silver flask from her pocket. She took a long, generous pull from the flask, and despite herself, she remembered.

* * *

_Captain Isabela had shouted at Fenris, on the last day._

_The elf was trying to help with the rigging, but he was slowing everybody down. Lately he had become more and more clumsy and slow to respond. What could she do? She couldn't have a crew member mucking everything up, and she couldn't just let him off because he shared her bed. _

_She shouted at him, ordered him off, and waved for someone else to take his place, and he disappeared and she didn't see him again for hours. _

_Not that she had noticed. There was too much to do - they were setting out from a day's port full of new supplies and cargo and they needed to get out of the lane before the Rivaini fleet blocked it and before any busybodies decided to take a look at their inventory. Particularly the not-so-legal inventory._

_She didn't return to the Captain's Quarters until they had managed to evade the larger naval vessels through a treacherous shoal and made the open sea, with no pursuers in sight. Stranding a fleet of ships behind her always left the Captain in excellent spirits; she set the First Mate in charge and excused the body of the crew to eat, drink, and be merry while she wandered into her cabin and pulled off her boots. Cheerfully she flopped onto her bed and stretched, and spoke excitedly to an empty room for five minutes before she realized Fenris was not there. Not in his customary seat at his desk, not anywhere._

_Shit. Why did he have to take everything so personally?_

_"This ship doesn't take passengers," she had always said. Everyone was expected to earn their keep. And Fenris had always said he preferred it that way, that he did not want to be kept._

_All of that had gotten more complicated, now. _

_It had happened gradually, his sickness. The pain had kept getting worse, that had been the first sign. The brands became unstable; they would fail him at crucial moments, and flare at unpredictable times. They ignored it as long as they could. They had seen the world together, made and lost fortunes, and had several lifetimes' worth of adventures. Certainly time had passed, but surely they were nowhere near the end, not now, not yet. But when his strength began to fail him, it became clear that this process went one way only, with no turning it back. _

_Neither Fenris nor Isabela had ever considered the future as any more than a distant abstract concept, not of much interest. They hadn't gotten any better at it now. They dealt with his symptoms as they arrived. She shifted him from the frontline of her raiders to the most basic of sailing tasks, and had to tolerate his anger over it. They had terrible, shouting fights. She banished him from her quarters, or he stormed out and slept below decks. She left him at port and wondered if she would ever see him again. Then they made up all over again, nowhere near as athletically as they once had, but with considerably more tenderness._

_Sometimes she would leave him to his solitude; he needed that from time to time. That day Isabela stormed out of her cabin and walked the length of the ship, looking for him._

_She found him in the crow's nest, up a precipitous series of ropes and handholds, a difficult enough climb that she didn't think he would attempt it. Fenris did not do much climbing anymore. But he wasn't anywhere else, and not knowing where he'd gone was making her tense, so she made the climb. She'd have a better view up top._

_He was sprawled in the bottom of the basket, his lanky limbs spread out every which way. But his face was calm and relaxed, his head resting on one arm looking up at the stars coming out. Isabela wanted to box his ears for making her worry. How he had even managed to get himself up here was a mystery. Pure stubborn determination, she supposed. He'd probably exhausted himself on the way up, and hadn't been able to climb down._

_Fenris had smirked at her, as though reading her mind, and it made her even more infuriated._

_"Idiot," she grumbled, stepping into the scout's nest around him. "I didn't sail you all over Thedas to have you break every bone in your body falling off the mast!"_

_"You sound just like Aveline." He sounded amused._

_"I sound like anybody with a lick of sense. You stay on the ground, got it?"_

_"Aye, Captain," he said jauntily. His mood was strange. Trying to sound light, and failing miserably. "I apologize. I wanted to go somewhere quiet, to think."_

_"Go to the cabin, then."_

_"YOUR cabin," he said pointedly. _

_So he was avoiding her specifically. Utterly unfair of him. How was any of this her fault?_  
_Isabela turned her back and looked out into the distance, at the sun setting. The poetical meaning of which was entirely unwelcome. _

_"You missed some fantastic sailing," she bragged. "I only wish I could have seen the look on those stuffy admirals' faces…"_

_Fenris interrupted her. "I was thinking perhaps it is time for me to go."_

_She could feel his eyes at her back, probing for a reaction. Captain Isabela shook her head without turning to look. "Don't."_

_"We agreed. When I wasn't of use to you anymore you should leave me behind."_

_She made herself smile and joke. "Well, I can still think of plenty of uses for you…"_

_He wasn't up for flirting right now. He broke it to her as plainly and bluntly as he could. "There is not much time left for me. And I know you will not want to be with me when —"_

_"Stop it," she said emphatically, sinking down to the floor next to him. "Don't be morose, you know I hate that."_

_"Isabela…"_

_"Stop all this nonsense. You're staying with me." Isabela leaned against him and reached her arms around his torso, and tried not to think about how thin he was getting. Her chin rested against his shoulder._

_"We agreed," he reminded her pointedly._

_She had to clench her jaw to keep from snapping at him further. Must they really dwell on this? Yes, he was dying. She knew it. But nothing they could say would change it. Couldn't they just pretend everything was fine, whenever possible? Pretend this wasn't happening? Denial had always worked splendidly for her, up to now._

_Fenris, as usual, was not in a cooperative mood. _

_"Aveline has invited me to stay with her family. Permanently."_

_"How utterly boring," she said flatly._

_"I could watch the children."_

_"I'll drag you back." Isabela buried her face in his shirt. She couldn't look at him when he got like this. "I'll fight her for you. With swords even. I'll bet she can't even lift hers anymore."_

_"She can probably still lift us both. One in each arm."_

_She held him tighter. "Stay. Who will I talk to without you? These louts? Don't go."_

_"I'm only in the way here, Isabela."_

_Oh, she hated him sometimes. For being so spectacularly dense. For making her say these things, these ludicrously obvious things. "You're not in the way. I want you here. Really."_

_"Obligation," he said, sounding forlorn. "I have never wanted to tie you down. I have taken enough of your time with my problems. I should let you go."_

_It made her want to slug him, but she kissed him instead. On the corner of his lips, his neck, the lobe of his ear. _

_"I have no obligations. I do what I want. I want you. I want your time. However much there is, I want all of it. All of your time. Stay."_

_He said no more about it, and let her kiss him at length. _

_They laid there for hours, looking at the stars. Isabela made up more names and stories for the constellations, as bawdy as possible, to hear him laugh. _

_He looked mostly at her. _

_"I love you," he said. "I have always…"_

_"Shh..." She interrupted him with another kiss._

_They climbed down in the dark and went back to their quarters. As she'd predicted, he was exhausted, and started dozing off before he could even take off his tunic, sitting there in his chair. Isabela undressed him and put him to bed. _

_She stayed up only a little longer, consulting her nautical maps and making a few idle notes in her log. Coordinates, something about the wind. Nothing major. _

_She climbed into bed with Fenris and he woke only long enough to put his arms around her. She snuggled up to his chest and listened to his heart beating steadily until it lulled her to sleep._

_When she awoke the next morning, he was gone._

* * *

Supper was an uncomfortable affair, silent and red-eyed. Aveline pushed food at everyone despite their lack of appetite.

Doris did not appear. Isabela could hear her, faintly, crying alone in the children's room.

Afterwards Isabela stayed at the table, watching Aveline putter about the kitchen, doing kitchen-y things. She had only ever seen Aveline the Guard-Captain, the tough broad with a shield ever on her back, straight-backed and muscular, holding her own with rough men. Yet she took to this housewife thing just as well as swordplay, and was as tender as any mother Isabela had ever seen. She should have expected it; Aveline would probably be good at any life she chose for herself. She was annoying like that.

The Captain drank the rest of her flask of rum, which kept her warm and relaxed.

"I have something you should see," she finally told her.

Isabela pulled a crumpled note from her pocket and tossed it carelessly onto the table. Aveline reached out to it hesitantly, as she sat down opposite her.

The note said, in his crooked writing, what Fenris wished to be done with himself and with his things when he died. Most alarmingly, it stated that the lyrium in his body was worth a fortune, and when he was gone he would give it to Isabela. The funeral pyre would melt it down, and if collected, she could sell the lyrium and live like a queen.

Aveline looked over the handwritten note, and her face twisted. "Oh… oh…"

Isabela sighed.

"Missing the point as always. Oh... dammit." Aveline tossed the battered bit of paper onto the table angrily. "Only Fenris would think of something like the monetary value of his dead body. I'd hoped he'd gotten over that…"

Then the redhead straightened suddenly, and looked hard at the woman sitting across from her.

"Isabela… you didn't…?"

The Captain shrugged.

"You selfish cow—"

"It wasn't me," she said casually, folding her arms. "I'd shut myself up in the larder for three days getting endlessly drunk, if you must know." She blinked and looked away. "When I came back they'd found the note in his things. The men did it. With my first mate standing over them holding a Qunari musket to make sure nobody stole any lyrium for themselves."

Aveline stared at her icily. "I cannot believe you."

"There wasn't so much. It fits in a container this big. But it's so heavy, big girl. You can't believe how heavy it is. You think of him carrying that around all those years… no wonder he could be such an asshole."

"I cannot** believe **you. Doris was right. You money-grubbing whore!"

"I told you, I didn't do it, all right?… I should have been the one, but… I couldn't face it. I just woke up and he wouldn't wake up and I shook him and shook him…"

Aveline ignored the last bit, still stuck on the lyrium. "How much did you get?"

The Rivaini turned silent and unmoving, suddenly tense.

"Well?" Aveline's voice rose, accusatory. "Enough for a spanking new ship?"

The pirate avoided her eyes, took a shaky breath.

"Enough to deck yourself out in shiny new jewelry and get a new boyfriend to drag around the world with you?"

"Shut up," she finally hissed through clenched teeth. "It's in my quarters, all right? All of it."

"… so you haven't sold it yet?"

"I can't." Isabela shifted in her chair, staring at the table hard enough to burn a hole through it. "It's sitting on a shelf in my quarters and I don't want it, but I can't get rid of it."

Aveline snorted. Surely there was an angle here she wasn't seeing. "There's no lack of buyers for lyrium. Waiting for a better price?"

"Who would I sell it to? To feed some Templar's addiction? For some mage to cast spells with? I can't do that." Isabela was quiet for a long moment, and then said in a low voice: "_It was part of him_."

The admission cost her in ways she could not have explained. She could not bring herself to look up at Aveline, and missed seeing her face change, soften. But she could sense the quality of the air between them changing.

In a way it was even more unbearable this way. Anger she could handle. Sympathy might just undo her.

Isabela laid her head down on the table and breathed in miserably. "I knew I should have brought more rum," she said.

Aveline got up. "I could use a drink myself. Hang on."

She collected herself while the redhead fetched a decanter and a glass, shaking herself determinedly and sitting up straighter. She left her flask on the table to rub at her eyes, and Aveline took it up and filled it with what looked like brandy.

"Did you read the rest of that note?" Isabela asked, just managing to hold her voice steady. "You know he left that sword on purpose."

"I should've known. He never forgets anything. I mean," she corrected herself sadly, "… _forgot_. He never forgot."

"He wanted one of the children to have it. If they want it someday."

"Oh, Maker." Aveline poured herself an especially full glass of golden liquor. "That's the last thing I need, one of my babies with a greatsword."

Isabela snorted. "He said that by the time they are strong enough to lift it, they might be sensible enough to wield it."

"Hmph. She might. She might also run off and get herself killed." She took in Isabela's quizzical look. "Doris, I mean. Of course she'll want it. She adored Fenris."

"He talked about her all the time, on my ship. Dor said this, Dor did that."

Aveline rested her head in her hands. "Poor Doris."

"Is she his?" Isabela asked bluntly. It was something she had wondered for a long time.

Aveline did not look nearly as outraged as she had expected her to. "No. I've wondered sometimes. But it's impossible, the timing isn't right."

Isabela's eyebrows jumped suggestively, inviting details. But Aveline did not elaborate, and the conversation lapsed into silence.

"This whole marriage thing, the house and kids and all that. You make it look pretty good," Isabela admitted.

Aveline looked surprised. "Well. Thank you. It's not too late for you, you know."

"Yes it is." She took a heavy swallow of brandy. "It has been for awhile. I never wanted it, but to know it's gone… you're still a bit sorry."

Aveline was quiet for a long time. Then she said, wistfully: "I used to daydream about having wild adventures. And I ended up back here in Ferelden. I will never slay a dragon, now. Or a — what was that thing you found in the Anderfels? A Frost Giant? No more abominations to hunt, not anymore, and the army wouldn't have me if I tried. Those days are long behind me."

She glanced at Isabela's surprised face, and chortled.

"I wouldn't change a thing, mind you. This is my life now, here, with Donnic and our children. I love my life. I only wonder sometimes… what if Anders had never blown up the Chantry, if we had stayed in Kirkwall? Everything would be different now. You might have stayed around, taken on a house… maybe I would have gone off adventuring with Hawke. You know?"

Isabela nodded thoughtfully, but didn't reply. A lot of things could have been different. She could have ended up like Aveline. She could have been happy that way. More likely she would have been miserable that way. Maybe she could have done everything else the same, but left Fenris behind in Kirkwall. He could have stayed with Aveline, or with Hawke. And then she wouldn't have this weight around her neck, as heavy as a casket of pure lyrium that she couldn't seem to get rid of, so heavy it threatened to drown her.

Aveline observed her withdrawing into herself, and finished her own glass of brandy thoughtfully. They sat together awhile longer with nothing more to say.

* * *

Isabela lay down in the little bed Aveline had made up for her and stared at the ceiling. She'd be back on the road at the first sign of daylight. She wanted to get back to the sea as soon as possible, feel the wind in her hair and the rolling of the endlessly changing waters beneath her feet. She'd get the men to cast off as soon as possible, choose some random spot on the map and point herself there. Anywhere.

Suddenly the knowledge hit her like a punch in the gut. This was where he had slept, when he came here. She turned her head to the wall and closed her eyes, and perhaps it was her imagination, but it even smelled like him. Like leather and wine, and the faint tang of lyrium.

_Dammit, Fenris._

She'd packed away her heart ages ago, long before she ever met him, but he'd managed to break it anyway. She kept on letting him go, and he kept letting her go, but it never stuck. Sooner or later one of them found the other. After promising themselves never to be bound to another person, look what happened. They had ended up bound together anyway, all the stronger for having done it themselves.

It was like her own version of his long illness. Her own peculiar aches and pains. It happened any time she had gone off without him — she'd be on a terrific adventure and suddenly wish he were there. Laughing at her jokes. Watching her back.

Now it would be like that all the time.

_Where did you run off to this time, elf? _

_I wish you were here with me._

An indeterminate amount of time passed like this, in the dark, before she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Aveline.

"Isabela, you're **crying**."

"No, I'm not," she protested weakly, grateful for the darkness that hid her wet face.

She heard a snort. Then Aveline was lying down next to her, on the little pallet on the floor, and reaching her arms around her.

"I shouldn't have come," Isabela said, in a voice unfamiliar even to herself. Choked with tears.

"I'm glad you did."

"I don't know what to do now."

"You'll think of something."

"This was his real home, you know. I should have left him here." She hated to admit that. But she'd always suspected he would have been happier with Aveline. In a real home, with a real family.

Aveline disagreed firmly. "His real home was with you. Fenris loved you best of all. Whenever he was here, I know he was always thinking about how to get back to you."

Isabela gulped, and tried with all the strength in her body to hold back a wave of grief that threatened to crush her entirely. It felt like a physical force, one she had been dodging for so long that she wasn't sure she could take the blow. Maybe all her life.

Aveline surprised her out of it. She gave her a kiss on the lips, brief but sweet.

"I'll tell you what I told him," she declared in a whisper. "This home is your home. There is always room for you here. Any time, as long as you want."

Isabela released a heavy sob, and then another. It hurt to her very bones, but the blow didn't shatter her. Perhaps it wouldn't after all.

Aveline held the pirate like one of her own children, rubbing her back soothingly while she cried.

"Tell me something else," Isabela asked her softly, a little later.

"I half-expected Martin to come out with pointy ears," Aveline confessed.

"Really?" Isabela managed a smile. "What would you have done?"

"The same as I did, probably. Insisted Fenris stay around more, maybe. But he came out looking just like his father, and that was that."

"So…. how was it?"

Aveline blushed furiously, even though there was no reason to. Isabela had certainly encouraged her to bed Fenris at the time. "Intense. A little wild. Not something I would be able to do all the time. Donnic's more my speed. I like a partner who can laugh in the middle of things, you know?"

"So you regretted it?"

"Not even a little bit." Aveline smiled. "It's a nice memory."

Isabela smiled too. Somehow the thought of that made her feel a little better.

She knew then that she would never sell the lyrium. She was going to carry the damned thing around forever. Bugger it all. She'd make do.

"Aveline?"

"What?"

"I always knew I'd get you into bed."

"Shut up."

* * *

Isabela rose before the sun, silently extracting herself from the bed where Aveline still lay tangled in the covers. The redhead looked sorrowful even in sleep. But Isabela knew she would be okay. She had Donnic, and four little ones, and a beautiful life. They would all take care of each other.

She quietly sheathed her knives and tiptoed out of the room, hoping to grab some crusts of bread from the kitchen on her way out.

And she ran smack into Doris, who was standing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Oof," she said unnecessarily, and hurriedly motioned for the brat to be quiet. In the pre-dawn darkness she could somehow still make out the little girl's disapproving glare, so like and unlike Aveline's. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep. Where are you going?" she asked flatly, even as Isabela wildly motioned for her to be quiet.

"Shh! I'm just... I'm stepping out for a minute, okay?" she hissed.

"You're running away." Doris put her hands on her hips, which was definitely a move she had learned from her mother.

"All right, you caught me." Isabela kept her voice down. "I'm a shit person, okay? I admit it. I can't stay here. I only promised I'd come to give you the news in person, and that's what I did, and now I'm going."

"Where?"

"Anywhere but here." She hurriedly grabbed an entire loaf of bread and stuck it under her arm. "Go ahead and hate me, it's all right. Just don't wake up your mum."

Doris shuffled from one foot to another, and looked uncomfortable. Isabela couldn't make out why, until she heard the next thing she had to say. "I'm sorry about yesterday."

"Sorry for what?"

"I dunno. I'm just supposed to apologize."

Isabela snorted. "Don't say anything you don't mean, kid. Empty words don't mean a thing."

Dor's expression screwed up painfully. "I guess I'm sorry I yelled at you. Uncle said... he really loved you. So you must be kind of okay."

Isabela sank into a wooden chair and rubbed at her face again, while the redheaded girl watched her curiously.

"Okay kiddo, listen. Two things."

Dor nodded solemnly.

"I tried. Believe me; we tried to find a cure. We went everywhere. I took him all over the world. We went to places nobody's ever heard of. I thought someone would have an answer. Some kind of healing, alchemy, even magic, something would fix him up, but nobody could do a thing for him. We even went into Tevinter to look for records, clues. I asked Hawke for help - ask your Mum about Hawke sometime, she'll tell you. Anytime he gets into trouble he would just trip over the solution a few minutes later. I thought for sure he'd come up with something… but nothing worked. And now he's dead. I'm sorry, all right? I really did try."

She could hear sniffling. Shit, the kid was crying again. She was getting really sick of making people cry.

Isabela stood up, shouldering her bag.

"What was the other thing?" the little girl asked.

"Take care of that book he gave you. It's important. Don't forget."

Isabela walked out of the house. She could feel the little girl's eyes on her back the whole way, even as she topped the hill and passed down the road, where she couldn't possibly see her anymore.


	3. Chapter three

**This is the epilogue, picking up some years after the last chapter. Thanks for reading!**

The Pearl never changes. The world outside could shake to its foundations, could go to war, could fall to blight, but there would always be The Pearl and its services.

Even when Sanga finally let go of the place, the new Madam made few alterations. The upscale ambiance maintained, with identically hefty prices. The finest courtesans in the world were brought to work in its luxurious bedrooms. And no consideration would be given to politics or nationality - once you were naked, after all, it didn't matter if you were an Arl or a nug-herder, so long as you could pay the fee.

Only one addition was made, unknown to even frequent visitors. A room off-limits to customers, where a lady in trouble might sleep without encroachment by drunken boyfriends or murderous husbands. These girls would just appear there, quite suddenly, as though snatched from their own beds by unknown magics. They were quiet as mice, and when they left the Pearl no one would ever see them again, not in Denerim or anywhere a possessive spouse would think to look. Should such types show up to threaten violence in the brothel, the Madam herself would handle it with her very long, very sharp knives, and all the ladies would gather to watch the rare and impressive display.

Most of the time, however, the Madam stayed out of sight. She kept an office for herself at the back guarded by beautiful, muscular girls. She would emerge for favored customers, or to appraise new workers, and to insist she did not run an institution of Charity - no discounts and no running tabs. At times she would have visitors, strange foreigners who had traveled great distances and called her by any of a dozen names and titles. These travelers would disappear into her office for hours, and afterwards would have the run of the establishment. In a few memorable cases such characters would work a room at the Pearl for a time, as the double-jointed blonde elf had, and would be quite popular with the ladies and the customers alike.

A young redhead appeared late one night and asked to see the Madam. She did not seem to be a customer nor a courtesan; the oversized sword strapped to her back suggested she might be in some sort of trouble, or else seeking it.

The Madam seemed to have been expecting her. She appeared suddenly in the lobby looking as unchangingly beautiful as ever, in a ruby gown with a plunging neckline revealing vast amounts of tawny skin. Her hair hung in dark rivers all down her shoulders, with a faint silver outline bringing only a suggestion of her true age.

The young warrior raised her eyebrows at the revealing costume.

"Show her in," the Madam waved, the golden jewelry at her wrists jingling. Several attendants came around to escort the girl through as the proprietress disappeared into her office.

The redhead's full armor rattled as she made her way into the Madam's room, ignoring the attendants that followed closely at her heels. She did a quick appraisal of the room and its exits. Not a boudoir, as one might have expected, but an office not unlike a Captain's quarters, with wood paneling and a fine rosewood desk. No windows. No seats besides the one the Madam occupied behind her desk.

The Madam was giving her an equally appraising look, and Doris straightened under her gaze.

"You took a little tracking down, Captain." Her voice had grown dark and smokey.

"It's Madam these days." Isabela gestured, and her bodyguards closed the door behind them.

"So you've given up piracy?" she asked curiously.

"Not exactly." Isabela took a sip of wine. "I run several ships still. I just do it from the shore most of the time. Climbing around was starting to get a bit tiresome."

"Mother thought you'd never leave the sea."

"Never say never, darling. It's unimaginative."

Dor strode in front of Isabela's desk, not breaking eye contact.

Isabela smirked, and eyed the greatsword strapped to her back. Fenris's sword.

"Can you swing that thing?"

Dor cocked her head slightly, but made no move to draw her weapon. "Well enough."

Plainly she felt no need to prove herself. Madam Isabela liked that.

"You don't look surprised to see me." Doris sounded perhaps a little disappointed by this.

"I had some warning." Isabela opened a drawer of her desk and produced a folded piece of paper, and smoothed it flat in front of her.

Dor scanned it for only a moment. The handwriting was immediately familiar. "Mother. I should have known." Then she huffed with annoyance. "If she had just told me where you were, it might have saved me some time. I've been all through the Free Marches and Ferelden too."

"And ruin Baby's First Adventure? I think not." Isabela refolded the letter and put it away. "She was a little unclear on whether you were coming to run me through or to ask for a job."

"Neither. I came about this." The redhead wandered to the single bookshelf and thoughtfully extracted a volume, green with gold lettering on the cover. Doris ran her fingers over the title familiarly. "But I see you already have a copy."

Isabela leaned back in her chair. "Varric sent it. From the first printing."

Doris set the volume down on the desk in front of her. "Did you read it?"

"I don't have to. I was there when he wrote it." Madam Isabela picked up the book and leafed through it idly. "I imagine there's a lot of unfashionable things about the dangers of magic. I hear these days people don't believe in demon possessions. They think mages are harmless. They don't even do the Harrowing anymore."

"They're saying the Chantry made it all up, to keep everyone in line. The demons, that is."

Isabela rolled her eyes. "Just like the Blight, and dragons, and everything else that nobody's seen recently. Suddenly they're all old wives tales. Before long a mage will wipe out an entire town again, and then they'll believe it sure enough. Me, I keep magic out of this place. They can call me a bigot if they like. I've seen enough abominations for several lifetimes, I'd rather not see any more."

Dor nodded to that. She'd heard the stories from her mother. "You'll outlive them all, I expect."

"I'll have to really read the thing someday." Isabela set the book down carefully. "This is your doing, I suppose?"

"More or less."

"How long did it take you to figure out what it was?"

"I recognized his handwriting right away. His commentary in the margins of the Common History of the Tevinter Imperium was pretty entertaining. It took a while to learn enough Tevene to make out what the rest of it said. Was it your idea?"

"To write his story? No. Fenris thought of it himself, when we realized we weren't going to be able to cure him. Appending it to the back of a Tevinter history book amused him. So you had it translated?"

"I did it myself." Dor shrugged modestly. "And Mother helped a little. Like I said, it took awhile."

"Huh. I thought the dwarf had managed it. How did you…?"

"The old Chantry had some books in the secret library with Tevinter translations; a former priestess was selling them in the street. Still, it was pretty tough. His spelling was atrocious."

She snorted. "He taught himself to write Tevene, for the most part. I figured he wrote it in his native tongue so I couldn't read over his shoulder."

"And I thought it was so I wouldn't be able to read it until I was older. There were some.. em.. explicit details."

"Ooh. Maybe I should read it sooner rather than later."

"He had plenty to say about you."

The Madam grinned fondly. "That might explain the extra tourists I've been getting lately."

"He said, of all the wonders of the world that he ever saw, you were his favorite."

Her grin faded. Isabela bit her lip, and rested her hand on the book. "That sounds like something he might say."

Dor hesitated a moment before asking the question she had come to ask."Do you suppose he would be angry? That we published it?"

"Absolutely livid," Isabela said, and laughed. "But you did the right thing. People should know."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The whole story." The madam's golden eyes went distant, and glimmered slightly. "About Tevinter. And about what really happened in Kirkwall… Anders and Hawke, and Meredith, and the Arishok… And about him. People should know."

It was strange, Doris thought, seeing the Captain again. She was not so fearsome as she remembered, from when the Rivaini pirate had stood in her kitchen and told a frightened little girl to take care of Fenris's legacy. Not so heartless as she had seemed then, 'd had half a mind, in the long walk to Denerim, to challenge the Captain to a duel. Now she couldn't really remember why.

As though reading her mind, Madam Isabela spoke up. "What will you do now?"

"… I hadn't thought that far. Look for a place to swing my sword, I suppose. There must be a need for warriors in the Capitol."

"Any interest in captaining a ship? I know a splendid crew."

"What in the world would I do with a pirate ship?"

"Anything you want, dear."

Dor stared at her a moment, dumbstruck at the very idea. An utterly, perfectly mad idea. Then she smiled slowly and said: "Mother would have a fit."


End file.
